Summary of Session 2 from Izwick's Perspective
That clear, distilled liquor. A description so general it could climb the ranks to field marshal. Izwick was piss drunk, a sensation reminiscent of every day he spent begrudgingly over-drinking his family ale to grade and approve the latest barrel. Yes, Izwick felt overwhelmed for the first time in his 36 miserable years. Three days ago a human twice his size bent over the young halfling and asked his name. “Izwick Fucking Bolfador.” He had the balls of an unneutered chimera, but the brains of a past-ripe gourd, the dilapidated kind that’s unwelcome in the cornucopia. Yet, a cornucopia he had found. Humans, half-elves, blue things that look like dragons. Why had a company with good reputation, good intentions, and good will accepted a washed out halfling with a drinking problem and button obsession. At rock bottom even the hardest comfort is soft. So Izwick Bolfador offered his best skills: beguiling the gullible, stealing with an objective, and being small. Small is good, he thought; I can fit into unreachable places, go unnoticed, and my comrades can easily restrain me when my ambitions flare. All this Izwick considered as he sat at his booster seat, thumbing through a collection of buttons. Then a blue dude busts through the door and collapses on the floor. Izwick’s companions rush to his side, checking for vital signs and inspecting the body once they realize he’s D-E-A-D. Mr. Pious runs out the door, rushing to the nearest guard-post to alert the Feds. A wiser blind guy thinks otherwise and chases after. Oli, which normally refers to a short acrobatic jump, starts playing with the dead, turning out his pockets and prying open his hands. Izwick thinks and then unintentionally blurts, “let’s loot and scoot!” A towering punk rocker with a door-shield provides sage words of wisdom… “perhaps we should not steal from the deceased guard.” Oh Kallorek, most bulky and battle-worn, your words beat my eardrums like the greenhorn percussionist, so naïve to the ways of the world. This Izwick thought, taking a cursory glance at blue-dude’s brass buttons. At that moment, Oli, humblest of tricks, found a note. That note told of a reward for reclaiming a trading-company’s chest, which apparently belonged to a shipwrecked boat on Fog Isle. Find Lamp-light Amy, the note directed in blue, shaky letters… The company set out from the Dancing Owl-Bear inn. Mr. Pious casts an illumination spell on the corpse so that some high-altitude God can check out his “good deed” and reward him with benevolent blessings. In Candlewood, halflings worship Daddy Splitwood and Mrs. Lamplap, two erotically themed deities that reside in the trees and lanterns of the town, respectively. Izwick pulls out his pocket sized lantern. He’s packing inextinguishable pine-resin, and the lantern floods the street in brilliant light, successfully one-upping the oddly dressed Wino. You can tell that Wino has had one too many when he casts illumination on Izwick’s lantern. Townspeople gasp and swoon at the brightness of Izwick’s lamp, a profound relic of the greatest taste, touted by the most handsome halfling to ever stumble the streets of Stormgate. There’s a scene with a beardless-dwarf and a gnome. Izwick sizes-up the gnome. He’s got a good 7” on that bureaucratic garden-rat. The dwarf on the other hand… Not only is he a fetching 4’5”, he has the audacity to shave his beard. It is said that stout halflings are descendants of short men and promiscuous dwarves. Izwick hopes beyond hope that this particular Dwarf is his kin. If Izwick had a beard to shave, he surely would. Surprisingly, the company leaves the guard-post without a prison sentence, not even the troublesome paperwork, parchmentwork, or scrollwork that comes with dropping off a body. They head to the northern docks to legitimize the existence of this trading company and to steal a boat. Apparently, a single candle in a dark building is reassurance enough. A cast of dockhands and sailors tie knots for fun and glare at them from tattooed faces. Mr. Pious “sees the light of god” in Popeye, and initiates bargaining for a boat rental. Another attempt to buy a skiff from a dragon-lady fails when she lowers her price to a “reasonable” 18 gold. Meanwhile, Izwick is busting locks with his iron Chops, liberating a fine sea-vessel from the darkest corner of the docks. He grabs a second oar and prays to Daddy Splitwood that someone in his party is buoyant enough to float (Izwick can’t swim). Away they go, into the shallows and mist. Some distance from shore, the group encounters lights and wailing noises. A battle ensues. Here’s a recap: • R.I.P. you brawny he-man. You Nordic hunk of Valhalla-bound, axe-swinging Androgens. You died like an innocent beetle in the throes of a Stormgate cyclone. Lamp-light Amy put your soul in a lamp . • Almost R.I.P. Izwick and camp-counselor Theo. Amy is clearly in purgatory, and she did Theo a solid by reviving him, hoping that Theo would bless her soul and provide egress from this harsh world. Instead, Theo pumped his comrades full of holy juice and absconded with Amy’s lamp. Poor Lamp-light Amy. • Screaming, stick-figure boi jumps out of the boat and defeats a banshee and ghost. • Oli is drunk and casts moonbeam a bunch of times as he skirts around the ghosts like a Hyundai Sonata in Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift . • The blind-guy twirls his sword uncontrollably and somehow fatally wounds an incorporeal being. • Time passes… • Ectopus. Okay, the company should and does reclaim the soul of Kallorek after dragging his enormous bod to the temple district. A bald priest performs the necessary rites, Kallorek’s soul travels through a trippy kaleidoscope/sound bath, and he wakes up feeling like shit. The company surrenders 300 gold pieces, and it’s time to even the score. Izwick eyes a Holy water dispenser. Amy recommended silver weapons and Holy water to fight the spirits, and at that moment Izwick indulges in his moral compass, asks for a distraction, and dips his flask into the dish. Against all odds, the priest standing 10 feet away from him catches Izwick trading! Of course, it isn’t a trade at that moment, so Izwick reaches into his bag of buttons and selects a sky-blue disc with a slender rim and three enticing holes. He triumphantly exists the building, dropping the button in his wake. END OF SESSION TWO Category:Summary